Currently.

I have fallen in love with this poem.


Thank you, John Donne.

A Valediction: Forbidden Mourning

As virtuous men pass midly away

And whisper to their souls to go,

Whilst some of their sad friends do say

The breath goes now, and some say, No;

So let us melt, and make no noise,

No tear-floods, no sigh-tempests move;

'Twere profanation of our joys

To tell the laity our love.

Moving of th' earth brings harms and fears,

Men reckon what it did and meant;

But trepidation of the spheres,

Through greater far, is innocent.

Dull sublunary lovers' love

(Whose soul is sense) cannot admit

Absence, because it doeth remove

Those things which elemented it.

But we, by a love so much refined

That ourselves know not what it is,

Inter-assured of the mind,

Care less, eyes, lips and hands to miss.

Our two souls therefore, which are one,

Though I must go, endure not yet

A breach, but an expansion,

Like gold to airy thinness beat.

If they be two, they are two so

As stiff twin compasses are two;

Thy soul, the fixed foot, makes no show

To move, but doth, if th' other do.

And though it in the center sit,

Yet when the other far doth roam,

It leans and hearkens after it,

And grows erect, as that comes home.

Such wilt thou be to me, who must,

Like th' other foot, obliquely run;

Thy firmness makes my circle just,

And makes me end where I begun.

Sorry, kind of long. I just think his imagery and metaphors are so great, and so ridiculously profound. I LOVE JOHN DONNE. Actually, I'm more apt to liking his later poetry-- I'm not too enthralled by the eroticism in his earlier poetry-- but even that is just so... well written. Blast.

So my bed bugs are killing me. I am almost throroughly convinced that I have them-- HOWEVER, I refuse to act upon it (yes, girls, this means not sleeping in my bed/getting rid of them in some fashion) until I have proof. The bug-bites aren't proof enough, you say? Well, I say, they could be any number of bugs, and so I will be skeptical until I have found proof of the bed bugs. I have been studying up on them for the last hour, and I will be taking precautions in dealing with the little buggers. Hopefully I can find one and catch it in a bag-- That is definitely proof enough.

In other news, I aced my Italian final. It feels good-- getting As again. Last year was a huge hit to my self-esteem, but I am slowly rebuilding the confidence in my intellect I once had.

I went to Squaw Peak for the first time ever. It was so beautiful... and FREEZING. Also, it took forEVER to drive up there. And no, there was no macking on this trip. Just some good friends, a roaring dance party and some hot chocolate. Who needs kissing when you've got all that?

What's wrong with the world, mamma?

The daily routine of me is not completely abnormal, but it is an undeniably lovely thing; a lovely thing whose vitality requires an iPod. It sounds superficial, or maybe even pathetic; but, the bottom line is that it's true. Music is like food for me: food of the soul. Like steak and red-jello with bananas in it.

Everyday, I walk to school through the faculty parking lot, up the South-of-campus-suicide stairs, around the Benson building, and finally, onto my classes. If I didn't have the company of souls such as Ingrid Michaelson, Matt Costa, Chris Brown, and Enya to accompany me on my hike to school each day, I am convinced I would never make it. Instead, I would be reported missing by my roommates (hours later) and be found slamming my face with delicious substances such as a strawberry cheesequake blizzard at The DQ. My scholastic endeavors would be, well, forgotten; and I would consequently become a hobo. Or possibly a hermit that does hobo-esque things for a living. I'm still deciding.

Anyway, today wasn't any different than my regular routine: wake up late, go to work, do work, go home, eat, walk to school.....
This is the point that I am going to pause the chronology of my day for the reason that it is at this point that I would like to be more specific and elaborate about the happenings.

I was walking to school. Walking. With my iPod. It was lovely. I reached the edge of campus, and was listening to a little Richard Marx diddy as I began to traipse up the suicide-stairs. As I neared the top and the road that passes behind the testing center/Benson building/other South campus buildings, the song ended, and I waited in high anticipation for the next one to come on.

(Interjection-- Really quick. You must know that my campus-iPod walk requires that my iPod is on shuffle. If I can predict the next song, I become introverted and depressed simply because I feel I have been denied a potential surprise. Okay. Back to my... writing...)

In perfect accordance to the time I crossed at the cross-walk, I hear the sound of synthetics, bass, and beat. I think to myself, "Impeccable." The song is currently (and has been since it came out) on my top ten favorite songs of all time. What is the song, you ask? Well, I shall tell you. The song was "Where is the Love" by the Black Eyed Peas.

Now, I know you are wondering why this is one of my favorite songs. At this point, I am choosing not to elaborate, and to simply forgive you for your blasphemies because 1.) It would take far too long to list all of the great qualities of that song and 2.) I shouldn't have to explain it to you.

Okay. Where is the Love. It came on.

As the beautiful lyrics of love and peace filled my ears, campus seemed to perk up ever so slightly. My ego centrism allowed me to believe that the entirety of BYU campus could hear the very same music that was pumping in my ears. Listening to the intro, I saw a boy walking towards with a strangely familiar rhythm in his step. The lyrics started, and surprisingly, he was rapping along with them. "What's wrong with the world mamma..." He finished the stanza, and my vision was directed to another girl, just to the right of him. She picked up where he left off without missing a beat. Then, the chorus came on. As it did, every single person walking between the SWKT and the Benson building simultaneously broke out in synchronized dance, and harmonized song. It was as if the whole world of BYU campus had the same vision of love and peace as I did. The chorus ended, and I could feel it was my turn this time. I picked up the rap, and motioned to my fellow musicians to follow me. We never lost the beat in our steps as we traveled from the SWKT to Brigham Square-- Me rapping the entire time. Once in Brigham Square, the song just seemed to build in both sound and intensity. Before I knew what was happening, it was completely packed, and every single person was singing, cheering, dancing, hollering, bumping their head to the music, or contributing to the great moment in some other way. I looked up, and somehow there were hot air balloons floating above us with messages of peace and hope written on the sides. The atmosphere was unbelievable, and I was in the very center of it all.

Then, the music stopped.

I opened my eyes, realized I was standing in the middle of Brigham Square, 5 minutes late for class.

A class that was all the way across campus: in the Benson building.

Standing in my solitude, I had one final thought pass through my mind before rushing across campus to class:

"Where is the love?!"

Unibrow.

September 15, 2008: And Kaylie has a grossly ridiculous amount of homework, and therefore is spending a long night at the library. Approximately 10:30 PM, after much careful study and hard work, exhaustion sets in. Kaylie decides to put off the homework for yet one more day, and leaves the library. Approximately 10:37 PM, Kaylie arrives at her apartment:








I LOVE MY ROOMMATES.